Chapter 4
Aya
The morning sunlight spilled across my house as I sipped my coffee, my hands wrapped around the warm mug. Marco and I were headed to the clinic to meet with Dr. Santos, someone I'd known for years, someone who had watched my growth from a fledgling audiologist to… this.
I felt that familiar hum of nervous excitement in my chest. A seminar abroad wasn't small. It was a big leap, even with Marco by my side.
Dr. Santos greeted us with her usual calm smile, her eyes lighting up when she saw us.
"Aya, Marco! Good to see you both. I wanted to speak with you together, officially," she said, ushering us into her office.
I sank into the chair across from her, feeling the quiet reassurance of familiarity. "Of course, Doctor," I said.
She leaned forward, fingers interlaced. "Aya, Marco… you've both done exceptional work here. Your patient care, your leadership in the clinic, your attention to detail, it hasn't gone unnoticed."
I nodded, trying not to blush. Marco gave a small grin beside me, quietly reassuring.
"Canada's partnership with us has an opening for an immersive seminar," Dr. Santos continued, voice soft but insistent. "It's not just learning, it's exposure to advanced equipment, new techniques, and larger patient management. I want both of you to take it. Aya, with your skill and initiative, you're exactly the kind of professional who would thrive there."
I felt a pulse of excitement. Bigger clinic, upgraded equipment, new techniques… It was everything I'd wanted in the back of my mind, but more structured, more official.
"You won't be alone," Dr. Santos said, eyes locking on mine. "Marco will be there. You'll be challenged, yes, but it's growth you're ready for. And when you come back, the clinic here will benefit from your experience. We'll have more resources, more upgraded equipment… everything you've been hoping for."
I swallowed, heart fluttering. This wasn't a chance invitation; this was a push from someone I respected, someone who knew my work inside and out.
Later, Marco and I walked out into the sunny street, a rare quiet between us.
"You can do this, Aya," he said finally. "We'll manage it together."
I let out a slow breath, nodding. Maybe the fear wasn't a reason to stop, but a sign I was heading in the right direction.
That evening, I drove toward my parents' house, the familiar streets glowing orange under the setting sun. The closer I got, the heavier my chest felt. It wasn't just dinner—it was Mom's birthday. That meant everyone would be there. All of my siblings, the kids, the noise, and the warmth. And tonight, I'd be dropping a piece of news that would ripple through all of it.
The driveway was already crowded when I pulled up. Mark's car was squeezed against the fence, and Andre's SUV was parked crookedly at the side. I killed the engine and sat for a moment, breathing in deeply.
Inside, the house was alive. The smell of roasted chicken, garlic rice, and chocolate cake hit me as soon as I stepped through the door. The kitchen buzzed—Atasha arranging plates, Yasmin trailing behind her with folded napkins, while Alexa tugged insistently at Samantha's hand.
"Auntie Aya!" Alexa squealed, abandoning whatever game she was mid-play. She barreled into me with all her six-year-old strength, wrapping her arms around my legs.
I laughed, crouching to hug her properly. "Alexa, you're growing every time I see you."
"Not that much!" she said indignantly, holding her hand to her chest to measure. "Just this much."
Kai zoomed past us then, nearly knocking into my bag. "Slow down, little man," Andre called, catching him by the back of his shirt.
I stood, watching the scene unfold—chaotic, messy, but alive.
My family in motion.
Mom was near the counter, arranging a small bouquet someone must have brought. She looked up when she noticed me. For a moment, her face softened. "Aya," she said, her voice warm, but her eyes… they carried that quiet hesitance, the unspoken gap that had lingered between us lately.
"Wouldn't miss your birthday, Mom," I said, walking over to press a kiss on her cheek. She smiled faintly, but her hand only hovered near mine before dropping back to the flowers.
Dinner was a beautiful kind of chaos. Conversations overlapped, laughter bouncing around the table. Mark teased Matt about his "dad voice" when he scolded Alexa for playing with her fork. Atasha told a story about her office, gesturing wildly with her spoon, making Yasmin laugh until she almost spilled juice.
I stayed quiet for the most part, watching.
Observing.
My family was a living mural—little pieces of love, chaos, and history all colliding in one room.
At one point, Yuri leaned across the table, whispering loudly, "Auntie Aya, are you still single?"
The table erupted in laughter, my siblings hooting and clapping at his bluntness. My cheeks warmed, but I played along, flicking his forehead gently. "Eat your rice, detective."
"That's not an answer," he said, grinning, and the laughter doubled.
Mom didn't laugh. She just gave me that look again, soft, almost sad.
I looked away quickly, reaching for my glass of water.
The kids eventually got distracted by the cake waiting on the counter, chanting for it long before dinner was officially over.
When the plates were half-cleared and conversation soothed, I knew it was time. My pulse picked up, but I straightened my shoulders. "Actually," I said, my voice cutting into the quiet, "I have something to share."
Everyone turned to me. Mom set her fork down, eyes sharp and expectant.
"I've accepted an invitation to a seminar in Canada," I said steadily. "It starts in about a month, and I'll be gone for three months."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the kids froze, sensing the shift.
Atasha's eyes widened first, a small, impressed smile tugging at her lips. "Aya… that's huge. Congratulations."
Andre whistled low. "Canada, huh? That's… wow."
Mark nodded slowly, thoughtful. "Makes sense. You've always been the one chasing bigger things."
Mom's hands tightened around her glass. "Aya," she said, her voice quiet but sharp with hurt, "you're leaving? Just like that? Without saying anything until now?"
The tension hit me square in the chest, but I forced myself to meet her eyes. "I didn't want to say anything until it was certain. The clinic pushed for it. Dr. Santos believes it's right for me. It's a big opportunity, Mom. I need to take it."
Her face crumpled slightly, though she tried to hold it steady. "You'll be gone for so long. I just… I don't want you so far away."
"I'll come back," I said softly. "This isn't forever. But I can't stay still just because it's comfortable."
Atasha leaned forward, her tone firm but supportive. "Mom… this is Aya's moment. You always tell us to grab opportunities and to be brave. That's exactly what she's doing."
Mom's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't argue further, but her silence was louder than words.
The kids, oblivious to the heaviness, suddenly erupted in squeals as Kai tried to sneak a finger of frosting from the cake. Andre scooped him up, laughing, while Alexa shrieked about "cake thieves."
The tension eased a little, laughter filling the cracks. I sat back, my heart heavy but also strangely lighter.
When the house had gone quiet, I slipped out to the balcony. The night was heavy, the streets dim, and only a few dogs barking in the distance. I leaned against the railing, arms crossed, when Atasha padded out barefoot, holding two mugs of lukewarm tea.
"You escaped," she teased softly, handing one to me.
I smirked, accepting it. "Needed air."
We stood there for a moment, sipping in silence. The faint hum of the neighborhood filled the gap. Crickets, distant chatter, the rustle of leaves. Then Atasha tilted her head toward me.
"You know, you really shook Mom tonight."
I let out a long breath. "I didn't mean to ruin her birthday."
"You didn't," she said. "She just… she wanted the night to stay the same. But you've never been the same type, Aya. You've always been the one who leaves marks wherever you go."
Her words surprised me, but I stayed quiet, waiting.
Atasha laughed softly. "When we were kids, you were always first, despite being our youngest. First to climb the guava tree, even when the branch looked too thin. First to sneak into the neighbor's yard just to prove we could. First to argue with Mom when she laid down rules that didn't make sense. You always went ahead, and the rest of us just followed." She shook her head, smiling.
I felt my chest tighten. I'd never thought of it that way. To me, I was just restless—always testing, always moving. But to her, it had meant something more.
She turned toward me, her eyes softer now. "That's why I've always looked up to you. You made it possible for us to be braver, even when Mom didn't understand. Even when it scared her. You showed me that it's okay to want more."
The words lodged in my throat, heavy and unfamiliar. Me—the one she looked up to?
"Mom doesn't always understand you," Atasha went on. "But she feels you. Every choice you make, she feels it deep, and that's why it hurts her. But that doesn't mean she isn't proud. She just… loves you in her own stubborn way."
Her voice dropped, quieter, but steady. "So don't carry guilt for chasing what's yours. You've been the sister we needed. The one who showed that life can be bigger than this house, this town, and this table. If you stop now, it's not just yourself you're stopping. It's all of us, too."
I swallowed hard, my hands tightening around the mug. "You think I'm doing the right thing?"
"I know you are," she said, firm and certain. "Because you're Aya. And Aya never lets fear win. That's why you've always been my hero, even when you didn't know it."
The night breeze brushed past us, carrying her words with it, pressing them into me like something I'd needed to hear for years. I reached over and pulled her into a side hug, my throat thick.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Atasha rested her head briefly on my shoulder. "Just promise me one thing," she murmured. "When you're out there… don't forget us. Don't forget Mom. She'll never admit it, but she needs to know you're still hers, even if the world is calling you somewhere else."
My grip tightened around her. "I won't forget. Ever."
And for the first time that night, I believed it.